I Was Super Excited to Photograph Life by the Sea; The Seafolks Were Not

Apparently, we live in different worlds

I always looked forward to visiting my mum when I was on leave. Those annual trips were nothing but exciting times for us both. Because of my work commitments — and hers — we didn’t live together.

I lived in Accra, the capital of Ghana; she was in Senya, a fishing town about 80 kilometers away, in another region. Whenever I’d visit her, she’d playfully tease me for not being outgoing.

“Go out, explore the town,” she’d say.

“There’s a long coastline in this town, go for a sightseeing tour. There’s even a small castle near where the people do the most fishing. Did you know? Go check it out someday,” she teased once.

Tempting.

On my next trip in October 2019, I took my camera along. I couldn’t wait to document the action — fishing, smoking, and life by the sea on a typical day.

I’d hardly played along the shores

I grew up in the forest belts and mountain ranges, far away from the coasts of Ghana. I had never seen the sea in person until my 20s. And even the first few times I did, it was a beach party in the company of many other people.

It wasn’t until I bought my cameras that I embraced going close and shooting the sea. For some reason, I never wanted to go alone — I’ve heard enough horror stories of the sea swallowing people.

Plus, given I’m not a typical coastal kid who can float in the sea, you can understand why I always kept my distance.

That I found the courage to visit the shores alone to grab a few shots of everyday life was enough evidence my fears were fading. Thankfully, on this Wednesday, there were many other people, but none without a camera.

That would prove problematic.

A stern warning put a damper on me

As soon as I whipped out my camera to screw my lens on, some older fisherfolk surrounded me with a message. A warning, even.

They didn’t like people taking pictures of them in the thick of their craft. They suggested if I wanted my peace, I had better direct my camera away from their direction.

That wasn’t what I expected. But I was too shocked to make any counterpoint.

The indistinct chatter of others not too far behind seemed to reinforce that decision. They’d probably seen the faces of some of their colleague fisherfolk online, and they didn’t like what they saw.

Or whatever other reasons they had, I understood them. I can’t blame them. Would I have had issues if the shoe were on the other foot? Probably.

But that also meant my creativity would take a hit; my purpose would suffer. I stood admiring the waves washing ashore. The crashing sound where these waves met some rocks got my attention.

I had to wait till most of these fisherfolk had set sail further from shore before I felt empowered to take more pictures. Well, except with the many other people still mending nets and watching my every move, my promising adventure lost its luster.

Yes, I got a few distant shots of the canoes from far away. With no zoom lens, I had to work some magic with my 85mm lens.

Good enough, but not what I dreamed of.

An unlikely sliver of light

A boy of about 13 would become my unofficial guide and companion for the day. He helped save the day. Shy initially, he soon beat the shyness and warmed up to me when I handed him my phone to take a shot of me.

He was elated when I slung the camera around his neck and guided him to take pictures of me. He would later educate me on the fishing activities here.

He explained how those just setting off into the sea (around 5:30 pm) would return early the next day, sometimes with nothing in their nets.

On good days, the nets would be about half-full, and there would be a crowd helping drag these nets ashore.

I couldn’t imagine spending a night on the high seas — with the biting cold and nauseating smell for company. I can barely manage the occasional bout of car sickness.

But these people have been friends with the sea since infancy. They probably played on the sandy beaches the moment they could run. It’s all they’ve known. Not me.

The sun was setting

As tempting as it was to shoot a setting sun over the sea, I didn’t want to be too late in getting back home. Plus, the warning had knocked the wind out of my sails, anyway. A few minutes after six, I got ready for home.

Was I disappointed? You bet. My dream pictures would have to wait for another time.

I dreamed of getting shots of sweaty men with dragging nets full of fish. I dreamed of seeing bare-chested kids rolling in the sand, chasing each other around, or diving headfirst into the coming waves.

Maybe on a good day, that would have been my story. Or, as I warmed up to the people and took more of the culture in, I would be allowed that access.

Maybe.

But on this day, I had to trade my dream shots for a few distant shots and a brief education on sea fishing 101.

My mum would get a watered-down earful.